After Twilight
by ladybillywig
Summary: I can't say much without giving the end of Twilight away, so I'll just say that it's what could happen to Jesse and Suze after the end of the series. MAJOR SPOILERS INSIDE, so I advise you not to read if you don't want to know how the series ends.
1. Default Chapter

A/N: Obviously, The Mediator and all its canon characters belong to Meg Cabot, not me. This is just a fan fiction…meaning it's fiction, written by a fan. Beware! MAJOR SPOILERS below. Please let me know what you think by clicking that "submit review" button at the bottom of the page. Thanks and enjoy the ride!

Chapter One 

He told me I couldn't handle this one alone. I didn't believe him, but that's what he told me.

I mean, I took perfectly good care of myself the first fifteen years of my life, _without_ his help. Did he honestly think I couldn't handle a little ghost busting?

Looking back, of course, I wonder why I didn't listen. Jesse's always right about this kind of thing…I should have known that by now. But nope, I had to do my _own_ thing, as usual, and completely ignore that still, small voice of reason.

And where does that always land me? In predicaments eerily similar to the one I was in right now.

Not that I'm always hung upside down and tied to a tree branch by my feet, oh no. Sometimes, I'm tied to a chair, or locked in a basement, or thrown off a roof.

Gee, I love my job.

Holding my shirt with one hand so that it wouldn't fly up around my ears, causing me to inadvertently flash any randomly passing innocents (not that there was much chance of anyone passing by, since I was in an out-of-the-way, grown over, fenced in area…but hey, I wasn't taking any chances), I used my other hand to dig around in my pocket for my cell phone, thankful that I hadn't dropped it (and _very_ thankful that I actually had one now).

Jesse never turns off his phone, even when he's at work. He says it's because I'm always getting into trouble and he wants me to be able to reach him if I need him. I always kind of resented that (I'm not _always_ in trouble), but just now I was feeling pretty grateful for it. So, squinting in the dark, I tried to dial. Let me tell you, it is no joke trying to dial in the dark…but my cell phone gives off a little bit of light, and his number is conveniently on speed dial. Having successfully put in his number and hit send, I held the phone up to my ear and waited for him to answer.

"Hello?" I heard him on the other end, and as usual just the sound of his voice made my heart leap.

"Um," I said, trying to act casual. "Hi."

"Susannah, I'm still at work," he said, sounding a tiny bit annoyed. "I'm kind of busy. Can this wait?"

"Um," I replied, biting my lip. "Okay."

A longish pause ensued, and then Jesse gave this kind of long-suffering sigh. He knew me far too well. "All right, where are you?" he asked. "Never mind, I know where you are." See what I mean? Far, far too well. "Are you hurt?"

"No, not exactly," I paused and licked my lips. "Just a little…um…tied up."

He said what sounded like a very bad word in Spanish, and I knew he was running his hand through his thick black hair in a resigned, irritated manner. "All right, I'll be there as soon as I can," he said, and, before hanging up, added, "And Susannah…don't move till I get there."

Haha. Like I had a choice.

Now that my boyfriend is alive, my life is a lot better than it used to be. No one's afraid I'm dating a gangbanger from the valley anymore, or anything like that. And they all love Jesse, especially my mom. She was a little wary of him at first, because of his age (He's twenty and I'm sixteen. She seems to be of the opinion that that is too big of a gap. Ha…if only she knew…), but after a while she got used to it and now she treats him like a king. So all around, things are cool.

The only problem is that it takes a little while longer for him to come to my rescue, now that he can't just dematerialize and reappear wherever he wants to the next second. And since he works half way across town at the Carmel Historical Society, I knew I was in for a longish wait. Unfortunately for me, my ankles were starting to ache, and I could feel all the blood rushing to my head.

But I could get through the physical pain and discomfort just fine. I've been through much worse in my time. It was the boredom I couldn't handle. Because let me tell you…being tied to a tree gets old. Fast. So I tried to come up with a way to amuse myself.

At first I considered twiddling my thumbs, but then I remembered that one of my hands was necessary to hold up my shirt. I tried whistling, but I'm not that great at it under the best of circumstances, and it's even harder to whistle upside down than it is to do right side up. So, to waste the time, I fell back on a last resort, playing an old game my mom and I used to play when I was little and we were stuck in traffic back in good old NYC.

"My name is Susannah, I'm going shopping and today I'm going to buy some sneakers," I began. "My name is Susannah, I'm going shopping and today I'm going to buy an umbrella…"

I'd gone through my first and middle name, and was just about to start on my last, when I heard someone scrambling through the loose board in the fence, and Jesse stood before me.

"God, Jesse, what took you so long?" I demanded, but he ignored me.

"_Nombre de Dios_, Susannah," he breathed, glancing from my face to the pink jump rope that was wrapped around my ankles, securing me to the tree. "_Querida_, how did you get into this mess?"

"Well, Jesse, though I would love to hang around and chat with you, this really isn't all that comfortable," I told him. "So how about you get me down and we can talk then?" I mean, really…did he think I was going to sit around and explain to him what happened _right that second_? Sheesh.

"Yes, of course," he said, nodding, stroking my cheek with his thumb as he surveyed the situation. "I'll get you down."

Walking to the base of the tree, he began to climb it with ease. Jesse does everything with ease. When he reached the branch that held me captive, he pulled a pocketknife out of his pocket, and opened it, ready to slice through the jump rope.

"Um, Jesse?"

He paused and glanced down at me. "Yes, _querida_?"

"I don't mean to be a bother, but you do realize that if you cut that rope I'm going to fall, right? Right on my head, too. Just wanted to point that out." I was a good four feet above the ground, and I did _not_ want to break my neck and die, not when he'd just come to life, and when my life had just ceased to suck.

He smiled at me, the expression on his face clearly calling me a silly little girl, but it was in a fond way, so I wasn't going to complain. Besides, I was totally used to him giving me these looks by now. Jesse can be a little bit arrogant sometimes. He sometimes gives off the impression that he thinks he knows everything and that he's always right. The problem with this, of course, is that he usually is. Right, I mean.

"I will not let you fall, Susannah," he reassured me, reaching down. "Give me your hand."

So I gave him my hand (the one I wasn't using to hold my shirt up with, obviously), and he pulled me up onto the branch beside him.

"Are you all right?" he asked as he cut through the hot pink jump rope that was binding my ankles, and I noted that his voice had a slightly steely edge to it. I couldn't see his face, but I was willing to bet that his expression was pretty grim, and that the scar through his eyebrow was glowing bone white.

I gulped. Jesse was mad. And Jesse doesn't get mad all that often. Well, you know, except for when people try to kill me (like Marcus Beaumont, Michael Meducci, and the ghosts of the RLS Angels), or when psycho fellow mediators (excuse me, _shifters_) try to kiss and/or threaten me (Paul Slater, anyone?), or that time he caught me frenching Tad Beaumont. But anyway, while I was pretty sure most of his anger was directed towards the ghost who'd done this to me, I was also pretty sure he wasn't all that pleased with me either.

"Um, well, you know," I said hesitantly, experimentally flexing my feet now that they were free. "I'm fine, I guess. I mean, my head kind of hurts and my ankles are killing me, but the feeling is starting to come back in my toes, so I guess I'm okay."

He looked back up at me, and I guess I must have looked pretty pathetic, because his gaze softened. Reaching out a hand, he brushed a bit of dirt off my cheek and smiled.

"My poor _querida_," he said, and planted a quick kiss on my mouth before jumping to the ground. "Can you get down?"

I looked down past my feet, to the ground, and shuddered, holding tighter to the branch. "Um," I said, "No. I don't think so." He grinned and shook his head at me, clearly amused, before helping me down. The amused look was wiped off his face a moment later, however, when I promptly crumpled to the ground.

Three things happen when someone ties you to a tree upside down and leaves you hanging there for almost an hour. You see, when you finally get right side up and on the ground you will not only have a horrible head ache (thanks to all the blood having rushed to your head) and painful rope burns, but since all the circulation was cut off from your feet you won't be able to stand without assistance for a while either.

"Susannah?" Jesse bent down and hovered over me, an anxious expression on his face. "Susannah, are you all right? What's wrong?"

I grimaced and shook my head. I was feeling a little dizzy, and my head was aching more than ever now, since my head had hit a rather lumpy tree root as I fell. "My feet," I said a bit groggily. "They um, hurt. And the feeling hasn't quite come back yet. And I'm feeling sort of…dizzy." Gingerly, I tried to sit up. "I think you, um, are going to have to help me."

He frowned, and I could tell he was mad again. However, when he spoke again his voice was gentle, and I breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn't mad at me, it seemed. "Let me see your feet, _querida_."

Since I'd been wearing el cheapo flip flops earlier which had long since fallen off, my feet, as I held them out to him, were bare, and kind of dirty. And, I noted grimly, where the ropes had wrapped around them were big, bright red burns. Ouch.

Jesse's frown deepened and his jaw tightened. "Susannah," he began, but I cut him off. I was so not in the mood for a lecture right now. I mean, I don't know if he'd noticed or not, but those rope burns _hurt_.

"Jesse, can we just save that for later, please? I mean…I know you're ready to point out the error of my ways, but maybe right now we should concentrate on getting out of here unnoticed. I know you haven't had a lot of problems with the police before…but now that you're alive, trespassing on private property could get you in some real trouble."

"And just how do you suggest we get out of here? _Querida_, you can't even stand up without assistance. Do you really think I'm going to let you try and scramble through there in your present condition?" He motioned towards the lose plank, and I sighed. He did have a point.

"I don't know, Jesse," I said tiredly. "Maybe you could help me, or something. Besides, I only fell because my feet were still numb. But judging from the sharp pain shooting up from my feet, I'd say the feeling's returned to them. And we really need to get out of here. I mean, Kevin was way mad. And given my 'present condition', I'm not all that willing to run into him again any time soon, ya know? So if you'd, you know, lend me a hand, I'll get up and we can figure a way out of this mess."

He shot me a sharp look and muttered something that sounded like "if you'd listened to me we wouldn't be in this mess in the first place", but he gave me his hand and pulled me to my feet and asked a little shortly if I could stand now.

"Yes, thank you," I said primly, though I was still a little wobbly. "Now," I slowly and carefully made my way over to the fence. "Just how are we going to get out of here?"


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two 

In the end, we discovered that the plank next to our entrance was a little loose, so Jesse kicked it down and helped me get through. Once we were free, I found myself standing on the sidewalk in front of Jesse's car. For a while he'd been borrowing Father Dom's when it could be spared, but he'd saved up and bought his own. It wasn't the prettiest thing in the world…but he'd bought it with his own money and was immensely proud of it. It was kind of pathetic, I guess, but hey…the guy had spent 150 years not being able to pay for anything. I figured I could make allowances for this.

I shivered. Nights in Carmel could be pretty cold, with the fog and wind rolling in off the ocean, and, in my capris, tank top (hey…it had been hot that afternoon), and bare feet, I wasn't exactly dressed for this sort of weather.

"Well, Susannah?" Jesse looked down at me, his black eyes unreadable, but the scar through his eyebrow was a brilliant white, giving me clear indication of just what he thought about all that had transpired that evening.

I decided that if I pretended I didn't know what he was talking about, he might forget about lecturing me. "Well what?" I asked, trying to make my eyes big and round, in a Bambi-esque fashion.

By the look he gave me, I could tell he totally wasn't falling for that one. Crap.

"Susannah," he said in a slow voice, as if I wouldn't understand if he didn't speak slowly and distinctly. "Now that you are done playing damsel in distress, do you think you could explain to me what exactly happened while I drive you home?"

"Um," I began quickly. "You know what? I think I'll walk. Because you should probably, you know, get back to work and…"

"Susannah," he broke in sharply. "I am not going back to work. I am going to drive you home. It is too far for you to walk with your present injuries, not to mention the fact that you seem to have lost your shoes. You need to get home so you can rest. Besides, you're cold. Get in the car where it's warm."

I frowned, but knew resistance was futile. "Whatever," I said, shrugging, as I slid into the passenger seat.

"Thank you," he replied shortly, shutting the door for me before circling around and hopping in on the other side.

He put the key in the ignition, and sat silent for a few minutes as he navigated his way through the dark streets of Carmel. I chewed my lower lip, trying to think of what to say so that he wouldn't be mad at me. Unfortunately, my brain had been a bit fried by the night's events, and I wasn't sure I was quite up to explaining things. Maybe I could plead ill health and he'd put off his questioning till later, after I'd have had time to think up something to tell him? Probably not, but hey, I could try.

"Well?" he said finally, glancing away from the rode and focusing his dark eyes on me.

"Um, you know what Jesse? I'm a little tired, okay? So can this, um, wait till…like, tomorrow or something?"

He so wasn't buying it. "Susannah," he began dryly. "You are going to explain to me what happened whether you like it or not. Why did you go without me? I told you that you could not do this on your own. Why didn't you listen to me, _querida_?"

"Look, Jesse, I know you're into this whole macho thing," I snapped. "But I managed to handle mediation just fine, _before_ you came along. I know you and Father Dom, and even Paul, don't think it's possible, but I _can_ take care of myself, thank you very much."

"Like you did tonight, you mean?" he spoke very sarcastically, raising an inky black brow at me. "Oh yes, _querida_, you took _brilliant_ care of yourself tonight! What would you have done if I hadn't been around, Susannah?"

I frowned, glaring at the windshield. God. _Why_ did he always have to be right? "I would've figured something out," I grumbled, looking away from him and out the window. "I'd have managed, okay? I could've…I don't know…"

"You could have what, Susannah? Used your cell phone to file through the rope? I don't think so, _querida_," he shook his head and gave a short, bitter laugh. "_Nombre de Dios, _Susannah, what were you thinking!"

"Oh, God, Jesse, I don't know!" I could tell he was _really_ mad now, and as I turned back towards him, I felt my eyes start to fill up. Great. Just great. Now I was going all sniffly. "How was I supposed to know this would happen? I thought I'd just get in there, do what I had to do, and get out. I didn't know this would happen, okay? I didn't know he'd actually _be_ there, waiting for me. Now can we please drop the subject? Because my head really hurts and so do my ankles and I just want to go home and go to bed and forget this ever happened, okay?" I sniffed. I couldn't help it. I was just so tired and achy and he was so mad at me. Can you blame me for breaking down?

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. This is something Jesse does a lot when he is nervous or stressed, and I always have to pause a moment and think about how adorable he is. But just now, I didn't care how adorable he was, I just wanted him to leave me alone.

"Don't cry, Susannah," he told me, reaching out a hand and smoothing my hair in a soothing manner. Okay, so maybe this wasn't so bad. "I'm not…" he sighed. "I am not angry with you, _querida_."

"You sure could've fooled me," I muttered. "And I'm not crying." Not exactly, anyway. But I had a feeling I was going to start to in a minute.

"I just do not like it when I see you get hurt," he said carefully, passing me his handkerchief. Jesse always carries a handkerchief. Unlike Paul, this is not because he thinks he might have to gag someone. I think, for Jesse, it's just one of those habits he's carried over from when he was alive. The first time, I mean. "And you are crying."

So we sat there, silent again, for a few moments as I tried to rid myself of the embarrassing case of the sniffles I'd contracted. _God_, I hate crying. My head was hurting even worse, and my nose was all stuffy, and I bet my face was all red, too. Anyway, I carefully wiped my wet eyes, and took a deep breath.

"Better?" he asked as I handed the square of material back to him. I nodded. "Good," he said, sounding a little distracted. I glanced a little sharply at him, and noticed that his black eyes were staring into space, a dangerous glint in them.

Having known him for a while, I could guess some of what was passing through his head. And I did not like it. Not one bit. We were already in front of my house now, but I didn't get out of the car.

"Um, Jesse," I said quickly. "You don't…you know…have to, um, confront Kevin or anything. On my account, I mean."

"Oh but I do," he said nonchalantly, that steely quality back in his voice. "He should know that that is no way to treat a lady."

"No Jesse, really…I'm fine. Don't trouble yourself, okay?" He just looked at me, raising an eyebrow. "I just…" I sighed. "You don't like to see me get hurt, right? Well, I don't especially care to see you hurt either. Especially now," I gulped…that sniffly feeling was coming back. "I mean…you know…what if you…I don't know, were like, really hurt? I just…don't want to lose you."

He smiled. "You are not going to lose me, _querida_."

"You don't know that," I told him. "You don't have super powers anymore, Jesse. You can get hurt now. Really hurt. Even…even… Look. Just promise me you won't do anything stupid, okay?"

"Yes, _querida_," he told me, still half-laughing at me as he leaned over and brushed my bangs out of my face. "I promise."

A few minutes later, I climbed the tree outside my window and snuck back in my room. Most of the time, when I'm trying to sneak back in the house, it'd be during the wee hours of the morning. But tonight it was only about ten thirty, and everyone was still awake. Luckily, I've been sneaking out a long time (it's sort of required, for the kind of work I do…ghost busting and all), and really, it's amazing how I've managed to almost never get caught.

The Force must've been with me, because I managed to get back in my room without making any alarm-raising noises, or alerting anyone to my presence. Breathing a sigh of relief, I shut the window behind me and turned around…

And was face to face with my mother.


	3. Chapter Three

A/N: Thanks for all the great reviews, guys! I'm glad you like it so far! Hope you like this next installment! I've had this chapter ready for ages (well, okay, a couple of days), but was not able to log in until now. Ugh. Anyway…here it is!

Chapter Three

My name is Susannah Simon. And in case you haven't noticed? Yeah, I see dead people.

No, I'm not crazy or anything like that. Really, I'm no different from any other seventeen-year-old American girl. I mean, hey, some girls join garage bands. Some girls go out for sports, or cheerleading. Others, like me, talk to the dead. Everybody's got their thing. It's just like…

Oh my God. Oh my _God_. Who am I kidding? I am _such_ a freak.

But the point is, my 'special talent'? Yeah, not so fun. In fact, I used to view it as a kind of curse, until…

Well, until I met Jesse, the ghost of a wealthy rancher's son who was murdered in my bedroom 150 years ago.

Yes, you read that right. My boyfriend used to be dead.

Don't even _ask _me to clarify that one. Trust me. It is one very long, very confusing story involving a cornucopia of disturbing concepts like time travel, shifting, and, oh yeah, creepy Paul Slater.

Though really, he's not so creepy anymore. Paul, I mean. Now that he's not trying to figure out ways to get rid of Jesse and generally make my life miserable, he's actually kind of fun to hang around.

But anyway, with a demanding, time-consuming, and generally _weird_ hobby like mine, sometimes a little… _bending of the rules_ is required to get the job done, if you know what I mean. This includes such feats of daring as breaking and entering, thievery (though can it really be considered _theft_, when I'm taking it from someone who shouldn't even have it in the first place, and delivering it to the person who _should_?), and, as I mentioned before, a little sneaking out.

Needless to say, this mediator business has gotten me into big trouble on more than one occasion. Seriously, you wouldn't believe the number of times I've been escorted home by New York's finest.

But I'd really been trying to avoid that kind of thing since we moved out here to Carmel. And so far, I had done a pretty good job of it, too. I mean, the police have only had to take me home once, and that totally wasn't my fault, I wasn't even in trouble that time.

So I'd totally been on my best behavior for the last year. Heck, I'd even managed to attain (and, for once, hold on to) some semblance of a good reputation.

I guess that's why my mom was so mad.

Sometimes I feel so sorry for my mom. I mean, she's such a nice lady, and all she wants is a normal teenaged daughter. Instead, she's stuck with me, Suze Simon, Messenger of the Dead. Can you blame her for being disappointed?

Anyway, as soon as I saw her face, I totally knew I was in for the reaming of a lifetime. And my mom? Yeah, she's a TV journalist. She is totally good at grilling people. So if she wants to know something, it is totally hard to keep her from discovering it.

But I had to. Because if I told her the truth, do you think she'd believe me? No way. My mom only believes things she can see…and she definitely can't see ghosts. My butt would be sent to another therapist faster than you can say 'certifiably insane'.

So, as you can see, it was vitally important that I kept where I'd been and what I'd done that evening a secret. As it was equally important that she didn't see the bright red rope burns around my ankles, thus heightening her suspicions, I moved quickly so that the daybed blocked them from view.

"Mom!" I gasped.

She was sitting on my bed, pressing her lips together in that way moms have when they're mad. You know, when their mouth is just this thin, straight line, and it kind of looks like they don't even _have_ lips? Yeah, that one.

"Well, Susannah?" she said casually. Way too casually. "Would you mind telling me exactly where you've been for the past couple hours?"

I gulped, thinking fast. I needed to tell her anything but the truth, and something that hopefully wouldn't get me into too much trouble. But what?

"Well, Mom," I began, licking my lips nervously. _Think,_ Susannah, _think_! "You see…there was this party at Kelly Prescott's," Ha! Perfect. "and I really wanted to go…only, I didn't think you'd let me, since it's a school night and all." I hoped she was too mad to notice that I was all dirty and totally _not_ in regular Suze Simon party attire. "I'm sorry…I know it was totally jerky of me."

Well, it sounded believable to me. And Mom should be happy…she's always wanted me to fit in and go to parties and stuff. But she just narrowed her eyes, and pointed out one fatal flaw in my story.

"Then why did Jesse have to take you home?" she asked sharply. Jesse'd been working late for the past couple of weeks, as the historical society was working on setting up a new exhibit. She totally knew he would not have gotten off early to go to some stupid high school party with me. Of course, I couldn't tell her that he hadn't been there all along…that I'd called him at around 8:30…because yeah, how do you think she'd react if I told her he'd had to get off early to play knight-in-shining-armor to my damsel-in-distress? If I told her that, she'd want to know the whole story. And that, as I mentioned before, would not be good.

"You weren't at Kelly Prescott's. You were somewhere else, with _that boy_, weren't you?"

I winced. By the way she said 'that boy', I could totally tell that unless I said exactly the right thing, Jesse was so out of my mom's good graces. And that would definitely not be a good thing.

"No, Mom," I persisted in what I hoped was a convincing manner. "I really _was_ at Kelly's party. Only then someone brought out a keg, and I didn't want to stand around watching everybody get drunk, so I called Jesse and asked him to bring me home."

After looking at me suspiciously for a moment, with me looking back earnestly, my mom relaxed a bit, and I felt like I could breathe again. I was saved. Well, not totally saved. I was still in trouble. But I could totally tell she was going to let me off easy now. So instead of being grounded till I'm 30, and having Jesse banished from the Ackerman-Simon residence for all eternity, I got off with merely getting grounded for a week and a major lecture.

Which was kind of a bummer. Being grounded, I mean. But she didn't revoke my cell phone privileges (thank _God_, since that's the way us Carmel Mediators keep in touch) or anything, so I wasn't complaining.

"I know, Mom," I said, as she appeared to be winding down. "I'm really sorry. And I totally promise I won't do it again." I hoped that, by crossing my fingers behind my back, I'd cancelled out the heinous crime of lying to my poor mother.

"I just don't know what to do, Susie," she said before she left, giving me this really sad look. "I thought we'd left all this behind us, back in New York. I just don't know what to do," and she left, shaking her head.

Great, Mom. Way to layer on the guilt.

Now that I had my room to myself, I headed to the bathroom and peered into the mirror. Ugh, what a mess! With my hair messed up and bits of sticks and leaves stuck in it, and my face all dirty and big bags under my eyes, I looked like one of those runaways you see in TV shows. You know, the ones who sleep under bridges or in subway tunnels.

Seriously, I don't know how Jesse managed to kiss me goodnight without gagging.

But that, of course, is why I love him. Jesse, unlike most of the guys I know, doesn't _care_ that I'm not Julia Stiles or anything. Jesse thinks I'm beautiful just the way I am, as crazy as that is. In fact, he's often told me this (that I'm beautiful, not that it's crazy), while whispering stuff to me in Spanish. This is very nice, even though half the time I don't have a clue what he's saying, my knowledge of that noble language being restricted to things like _hola_ and _que pasa_, or _querida_ (which means sweet heart, and which Jesse calls me when he isn't mad at me for doing dangerous stuff without him). And, of course, some of Jesse's favorite phrases…none of which are repeatable, and none of which I know the exact meaning to…but I can totally understand the tone and main gist of them.

These are the words he usually uses in reference to Paul Slater (whom Jesse definitely does _not_ like), and evil ghosts that try to kill me.

Anyway, even though I totally didn't feel like doing anything but jumping into my pajamas and hopping into bed, I knew if I didn't get in the shower tomorrow I was going to look like an extra from Night of the Living Dead.

So I ran a tub full of nice, warm water (I knew I could totally not stand up long enough to take a shower) and soaked for a while. This was a bit painful, you know, when the water hit my rope burns, but a bit refreshing, especially once I'd managed to scrub all the dirt and leaves out of my hair and off of my skin.

Once sufficiently clean, my leave-in conditioner making my hair a little bit slimy, I pulled on my pajamas, slithering under the covers and clapping off the lights before rolling over and slipping off into dreamland. And for once my slumber was completely paranormal-interruption free.

…

The next morning at assembly, my eyelids still felt heavy, as if each of them weighed a ton, and it was quite a battle to keep them open. This did not, however, seem to bother my best friend, CeeCee Webb, editor of the school paper and resident albino. Nope, good old Cee was yakking on about a mile a minute about God only knows what. I was way too tired to pay attention. Besides, even though I'd totally taken Advil that morning, my head was still hurting.

Despite how tired and generally wrecked I felt, I'd still dressed with the same careful taste as always. I stood there, yawning, decked out in a short sleeved, button-down, red blouse and black Banana Republic slacks (conveniently loose, so as not to rub up against my ankles, which also still hurt), thinking about the events of the night before…being tied to a tree, my fight with Jesse, and confronting my mom like that.

God. What a disaster.

Not to mention the reproving looks I'd gotten from Sleepy that morning, who, I could totally tell, was now even _more_ convinced that I was in some kind of gang. Oh yeah, and then there were the "haha, you are so busted" taunts I'd received from Dopey. And Doc's ramblings about the percentage of American youths who sneak out of their parents' house per year, _why_ they sneak out, and the most often used methods of getting out of the house undetected.

Gee. You just have to love stepbrothers.

Anyway, as if my day could not possibly get any worse, when I got to my locker I was cornered by the one and only Paul Slater. And yeah, okay, I know I said he wasn't a creep anymore, but in case you hadn't noticed I was in a totally bad mood.

"Suze," he greeted me casually, leaning up against the locker next to mine and smirking. Paul always smirks.

"Paul," I replied shortly as I opened the locker door.

"You're looking a little hung over today," he commented.

Oh yeah, what a way to flatter a girl.

"What do you say we skip homeroom and grab some coffee?"

"Thanks," I said, shoving my black leather motorcycle jacket into my locker and slamming the door. "But no thanks."

He rolled his blue, blue eyes and fell into step beside me, his long strides easily keeping up with my brisk pace.

"God, Suze," he told me, "Grump much?"

"Paul," I said warningly, "Do not mess with me this morning, okay? I am not in the mood."

"What's the matter?" he wanted to know. "You and Wonder Boy fighting again?"

"I said," I spoke through gritted teeth, "I'm not in the mood. And what happens between Jesse and I? Yeah, _so_ not your business."

"Because you know, Suze," he said, completely ignoring me and reaching out to twirl a piece of my hair around his finger, "If things between you two just aren't working out, I'm always around to…"

Okay, I know he was joking, all right? Well, half-joking anyway. I mean, I have to deal with this guy on a day-to-day basis. I totally knew this was his way of teasing me.

But I'd warned him. I'd warned him and he hadn't paid the slightest bit of attention. So really, what happened next was totally his own fault.

I paused, and so did he, raising his eyebrows at me. A sweet, angelic smile on my face, I stepped closer to him, and he grinned, a little uncertainly, I thought. Then I pulled back my fist and slammed it into his face.

…

Naturally, as always happens when someone is bothering me and I decide to punish them accordingly (i.e. with a fist to their face), Sister Ernestine was conveniently nearby to give me detention as my fist made contact with Paul's nose.

"Holy cow, Simon!" Paul exclaimed, holding onto his injured nose and letting out a stream of words that caused Sister Ernestine, who was striding towards us, glaring reproachfully at me, to pause in her trek and gasp in horror.

"Mr. Slater!" she exclaimed.

But Paul ignored her, just like he'd ignored me, and glared at me, his blue eyes filled with anger and hurt.

Baby.

…

When you attempt to maim and/or disfigure the most attractive guy in school, not only do you get detention, but all your fellow female students will immediately turn against you.

Seriously. One little bruise on Paul Slater's face, and suddenly I'm the Wicked Witch of the West.

"Oh my God!" Debbie Mancuso exclaimed as she and her best friend, Kelly Prescott (class president and total snot…also the girl whose party my mom thinks I was at last night), approached Adam, CeeCee, and I at the end of our last class before lunch. "What the heck were you thinking!"

I arched an eyebrow at them. "Excuse me?"

"You," Kelly jabbed a perfectly manicured nail at me. "Paul says you hit him this morning."

Well I could sort of understand her being mad. Paul was practically her boyfriend.

"Um, yeah," I told her bluntly. "The guy was bugging me. I warned him. He didn't listen."

"You can't go around abusing people just because they annoy you," Kelly continued, tossing her hair in a very cheerleader-esque way, and placing her hand on her hip.

"Yeah," Debbie chimed in. "Especially other people's prom dates."

Kelly nodded. "Exactly. That's like, totally childish."

CeeCee rolled her eyes. "Is _that_ what this is about? God, Kelly, it's just a _bruise_. I'm sure it'll be gone by May."

"And if not," Adam added lazily, "I'm sure he can afford plastic surgery."

"That's not the point," she jabbed her finger at Cee this time. "And nobody asked you."

"Look," I flung her finger away from my friend's face with a look of disgust. "I said I warned him. And now I'm warning you. So if you want to keep _your_ face intact, I suggest you leave my friends alone and keep your nose out of my business or I'll…"

But no one was to know exactly what I was going to do. I don't even think I really knew. This is because before I could give out my full threat I was cut off by the intercom buzzing across the room….

"Susannah Simon," it said loudly. "Please report to Father Dominic's office."

"See you later, guys," I told CeeCee and Adam, rolling my eyes as I headed for the door. I had a feeling I knew what this was about.

Ugh. This was so not my day.


End file.
